


don’t know what it means to me

by spaced_out1113



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, soft(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 06:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaced_out1113/pseuds/spaced_out1113
Summary: another rendition of how crowley and aziraphale get together. specifically what happens when crowley told aziraphale to stay at his place and what happens after their dinner at the ritz (with a few other things to tie it all together).





	don’t know what it means to me

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for checking this out! this is my first good omens fic and idk if i’ll write more but yeah! i hope you enjoy ^^
> 
> title is a lyric from “love of my life” by queen
> 
> a special thanks to my beta, AaronAlive (and everyone else who dealt with my ramblings about these two gjslajdkf)

“We’re on our own side.”

Aziraphale felt his breath hitch in his throat. He’d figured as much, but hearing Crowley say it aloud only solidified its reality. The angel went quiet, unable to think of a proper response to his words. Not that he needed to, Crowley was still talking, but Aziraphale was only half-listening.

The bus heading to Oxford (but would make a detour to London without knowing why) pulled up soon after Crowley finished speaking. The demon stood, bottle of wine in hand, and glanced down at Aziraphale. With a half second of debate that wasn’t really a debate at all, Aziraphale rose to his feet and followed him on.

The bus was notably empty, save for a few stragglers riding home from their late night shifts. Crowley was taking up as much space as he could, as he usually did. His knee felt cool against Aziraphale’s, which was to be expected given he was, well, a snake. Aziraphale briefly wondered how he managed to stay warm when he was sleeping for extended periods of time. 

His thoughts came to a halt when he noticed Crowley’s arm move out of the corner of his eye. He then tried to hide his surprise as it fell and settled along the backs of their seats. His fingers dangled close to Aziraphale’s shoulder and now it was all the angel could think about. He chanced a glance at Crowley and saw his face focused out the window, his hand propped under his chin. The bottle of wine sat abandoned between his side and the wall of the bus.

Aziraphale studied the parts of Crowley’s face he could see and concluded that he was determined to not make eye contact with him (although he couldn’t hide the faint dusting of blush on his cheeks, which Aziraphale believed to be his imagination). With a short exhale, he faced forward again, although he was hyper aware of the being beside him. 

Aziraphale’s mind flitted through several arguments with himself before settling on a thought similar to “fuck it” (the third (and probably not the final) time he’d sworn in his entire existence). He took a steadying breath and shifted closer to Crowley’s side. He felt the demon tense slightly, then even more so when Aziraphale let his head fall slightly and gently plop on Crowley’s shoulder.

It’s only a few seconds before Crowley relaxed, bringing his arm around Aziraphale and pulling him closer. The angel could see his gentle smile in the window, even though it’s partially covered by his hand. Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to soak in the waves of love around him (which he realizes now is coming from Crowley) for the rest of the drive.

\---

Aziraphale and Crowley rose as the bus rolled to a stop in front of the demon’s flat. Occult intervention (_not_ ethereal - there was a difference!) never ceased to make life easier. They stepped off the bus and walked toward the entrance as the driver looked around in confusion, then drove off toward Oxford.

Aziraphale was silent as he followed Crowley inside, the door swinging closed and locking behind them with another snap of the demon’s fingers. They continued down the hallway, past the statue and room containing Crowley’s plants, and entered the living area. The flat had an open floor plan, with a couch, an end table, and a television to signify the change from kitchen to the dining room (which contained a table with six chairs around it) to the barely lived in living room. 

Crowley headed toward a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of scotch on the slate countertop. He held up a glass in question, to which Aziraphale politely declined. He needed to be sober for now. Once Crowley had poured himself a considerable glass, he leaned against the counter and swirled the liquor before taking a gulp. 

“My dear boy, I-” Aziraphale began, but cut himself off when Crowley spoke at the same time.

“So, shou- sorry, go on.” He motioned to the angel to continue. 

Aziraphale smiled gently. “Yes, of course. I, ah, I believe we need to discuss what our next moves are.” He paused. “Regarding our er, former offices.” He barely caught the way Crowley’s shoulders seemed to sag in the slightest way.

“Oh,” he said, pouring another glass. “Sure. Well, we have the prophecy, right? ‘Choose our faces wisely’?” 

Aziraphale dug the scrap of paper out of his pocket and flattened it on the counter as Crowley downed the second glass. He read it over again, as if some idea could come to him that hadn’t come the first hundred or so times he’s read it. “What about the bit at the end, _‘soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre’_? What do you think it could mean?”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s probably saying that one of us is going to do something with fire. That’s more of hell’s thing, if you ask me.” He took another drink. “Though I suppose if they were going to punish me, it’d be the old fashioned way.” 

Aziraphale frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”

Crowley motioned toward the hallway toward his office. “Remember the holy water you gave me? 1967? Used it to off one of the Dukes of Hell. So I ‘spect they’d use the same thing to do me in. Rather unimaginative, demons.”

Aziraphale rose to his feet, holding his hands in fists. “Crowley, we cannot let that happen. I’m not going to let that happen. Even if I have to go down to Hell and stop it myself.”

Crowley didn’t respond to Aziraphale, opting to watch him instead. After several seconds, the angel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right. Er, how about the _‘choofe your faces wisely’_ bit? We haven’t even started that one yet….” Crowley grunted in agreement, pushing himself off the counter he was leaning on and instead leaned against the counter Aziraphale was sitting at.

They (well, mostly Aziraphale) continued deciphering the rest of the prophecy, and after an hour concluded that they would need to have a disguise for when Hell and/or Heaven came for them. Aziraphale rubbed at his temple, trying to squash the exhaustion that was surprisingly creeping up on him. “Alright, for that last bit once more. ‘Playing with fyre,’ perhaps a metaphor, or a reference to my punishment-”

“Angel,” Crowley cut in, striding toward him with yet another drink in hand. “We can worry about that later. Wait,” he held up a finger when Aziraphale began to protest. “We need to talk about the other thing, the… the thing on the bus… and what you said about, about the holy water… that... whole thing….” he paused, collecting his thoughts through the fuzz of intoxication. He carefully rested a finger on the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “Are you… Are you ready? Are we on the same level? Am I going your speed?” 

Aziraphale’s cheeks had grown warmer by the second as Crowley continued talking. He found he couldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes so instead focused on their hands. “I… Yes, Crowley, but I just-” he let out a breath. “I’m sorry. Not right now. You’re not… yourself.”

“‘M only tipsy,” Crowley protested quietly. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. Crowley looked away. “Fine, I’m drunk, but… y’know what, never mind, forget I said anything, let’s go back to the prophecy.” He moved away a little, breaking their hand contact and Aziraphale immediately missed it.

Aziraphale glanced up at the demon to see the hurt expression he hadn’t been able to hide, or at least pass off as something else, in his compromised state. His heart swelled with remorse, at both the look and at knowing he’d caused the pain behind it. With a sigh, the angel took Crowley’s hand in his before he could pull it too far away. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he started. “I just… I can’t worry about that when I’m trying to find a way to not lose you. Sooner or later, Hell or Heaven will come for us. I’d feel safer having a plan, or at least some semblance of a plan, first before we think about… about us and our future.”

Crowley gave no indication he’d heard the angel for a few moments, but then faced Aziraphale once more. He gave a single nod. “Alright. That’s fair. Though I suppose I won’t be much help then, too tired and too not sober, y’know.”

Aziraphale smiled slightly. “I’ll bet. After driving the Bentley on fire and stopping time, I wouldn’t blame you for sleeping in tomorrow.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, alright then, ‘m gonna go to bed, holler if you need me.” He hesitated for a second, then gave Aziraphale’s hand a gentle squeeze before heading to his bedroom.

Aziraphale watched him go, his fingers tingling from where they’d parted their contact. He ached to follow Crowley, to slot in beside him and feel his arms around him, to enjoy his presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to for so long. At least for a little bit if things didn’t work out, and they both ended up.... The angel then steeled his thoughts, reminding himself to be hopeful that somehow they’d come out of this unscathed and that they’d be able to live their lives how they wanted.

The angel returned his attention to the prophecy for another hour and a half until he had to pause every few minutes to rub the drowsiness from his eyes. He hadn’t gotten anywhere and grumbled in frustration at the lack of progress.

Aziraphale leaned back against his chair and dragged his hands over his face, then moved to stick them in his hair. He held his position for a minute or so before letting out a sigh and standing. He took a little time to stretch, popping the joints that had been stuck in one place for hours. He carefully lowered himself back onto the chair, eyes landing on the prophecy. A wave of disgust washed over him and he pushed the paper away. Before he could think more of it, Aziraphale’s eyes wandered toward the doorway Crowley had walked (well, wobbled) through. Perhaps he could… no, later. He needed to figure this out first.

But now that he’d thought of it, Crowley’s words came back to him. About what Hell would do to him. They pierced him harder now that the demon wasn’t here, and the fact that he’d mentioned their relationship before leaving Aziraphale to his thoughts didn’t help. He recalled his response, that he’d go to Hell himself to stop those demons from executing him. And… now that he thought about it, perhaps… he could? But how? It’s not like he could waltz down there looking as he was now. But if the prophecy gave any indication, maybe he could….

As the pieces clicked together in his mind, Aziraphale let out a victorious whoop. He pushed the chair he was sitting on out and raced to Crowley’s room. He threw the door open, not bothering to turn the light on. “Crowley! I’ve got it!”

The only sound that came from the darkened room was a groan, centered on the large bed under several heavy blankets. Aziraphale saw red hair peeking out from underneath the covers and grinned as he quickly made his way over. He drew the covers away slowly, exposing Crowley’s tired, scrunched up face (which was impossibly cute right now).

The demon blinked open his golden eyes slowly, looking at Aziraphale through slitted lids. “What… what did you need so bad… that you woke me up for?” 

Aziraphale could barely contain his excitement. “I’ve figured out the prophecy! I know what we have to do!”

Crowley hummed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Aziraphale sat on the edge of Crowley’s bed. “I’ll go to Hell in your place!”

The words were no sooner out of Aziraphale’s mouth when Crowley bolted upright, wide awake now. “Wha… whaddyou mean, in my place? Going to Hell? What’re you talking about?”

“Well, you said they’d definitely try to… well, they’d try to use holy water on you. But if I went in your place, the holy water would have no effect on me and you’d be safe!” 

Crowley blinked slowly at him as his expression fell into disbelief. “And how exactly do you plan on going Down There? And fooling them into thinking you’re me?”

“Well,” Aziraphale continued. “As far as they’d know, I would be you! I’ll disguise myself as you, then go pretend to be you, come back, and all will be well and good!”

Crowley rubbed a hand over his face. “And what about me? There can’t be two Crowleys, that’d definitely be suspicious.”

Aziraphale hesitated, mulling over the demon’s words, before perking up once more. “You disguise yourself as me! And if we’re lucky, Heaven will leave me alone and then we can swap back!” Crowley opened his mouth to argue once more and Aziraphale kept going before he could. “We know each other very well, as well as you can know someone, I’d say, so I don’t think we’ll have a problem fooling them into believing we are who we say.” He paused, then continued when he saw that Crowley still did not look on board with his idea. “And if you wish, we can practice as well.”

Crowley continued to stare at him, while Aziraphale waited for him to agree with his plan and move on to talking about the specific mechanics of it. 

But instead Crowley sighed, looked down, and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Aziraphale frowned. “What do you mean? It fits the prophecy, and I don’t know how else we’d be able to get out of this-”

“No, it’s not that,” Crowley interrupted. “You don’t know what they’re like.”

“Well, you can just tell me,” Aziraphale argued.

“No, angel-”

“If you don’t like my plan, what other ideas do you have?”

“It’s not about how good your plan is or not-”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You don’t know what they’re _like_, Aziraphale!” Crowley had grabbed him by the shoulders now, frustration and desperation making him hold onto the angel fast and hissing his words. “You don’t know what they’re capable of, what they’ve done. If they ssee that who they’ve got isn’t me, they _will kill you._ And then they’ll kill me. And they won’t do it quickly, they’ll drag it out and make it as painful as posssible. I’ve sseen it. I can’t…” the demon trailed off, and Aziraphale could see the corners of his eyes growing wet, which he didn’t mention. “I can’t lose you. Not to them. Not at all. So I’m,” he paused to collect himself once more. “I’m sssorry if I’m not as sssupportive of this thing. If I losst you again, I…” he sniffed, not bothering to wipe a tear that had strayed down his cheek. “I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself.”

Aziraphale felt his heart stutter painfully. Had felt it stutter several times through Crowley’s little speech. The demon continued to stare him down despite a few more tears having made their way down his face, as if daring him to counter his argument. Neither said anything for a while before Aziraphale carefully lifted his hands to gently hold Crowley’s wrists.

“Crowley, dearest,” he began. “I understand that this isn’t easy for you. It isn’t for me, either. I’d rather we didn’t need to have this conversation, or even this issue, at all. But it is happening. And it’s so very important that we figure this out, so we don’t need to worry about it again. If it goes the way I think it will, we won’t be bothered for a few millennia.” Aziraphale paused, letting go of one of Crowley’s wrists and instead bringing it up to cup his cheek. He felt him tense as the angel used his thumb to gently rub away a tear track. “But we have to be ready and willing to trust that we will make it out. I believe I can do it, and I trust that you will be able to as well. Do you trust me?”

Crowley held his gaze for a while, long enough that Aziraphale began to question if he’d say anything. Then the demon sighed, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch slightly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I trust you.” He threw the angel a sharp look. “Don’t you go dying, or you’ll be hearing words from me, got it?”

Aziraphale smiled, soft and warm. “Of course.”

Neither moved for a period of time, Aziraphale not quite sure how to proceed, and Crowley lost in his head. Eventually, Aziraphale cleared his throat, relaxed his hold on Crowley, and moved to get up. But before he could leave, Crowley took hold of Aziraphale’s wrist. When the angel turned to look at him, he saw round eyes and an expression that looked suspiciously like he was begging. “Stay?” Crowley murmured, giving Aziraphale’s wrist a gentle tug.

Seeing Crowley so vulnerable and open made his heart leap into his throat. Aziraphale sighed, smiled to himself, then replied, “Alright.”

Crowley brightened - not literally, but the happy, relieved light in his eyes was enough to rival that of any angel. Aziraphale allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed by Crowley, who proceeded to wrap every part of himself around the angel. Said angel had to force down the chuckle of endearment that rose in his chest like a bubble so the demon wouldn’t get self-conscious and pull away. Instead, he secured an arm around Crowley’s shoulders both so Crowley was more comfortable and he was able to be closer.

They were quiet for some time, with Crowley shifting to get more comfortable a few times before remaining still. Then, he hummed to Aziraphale and murmured, “You could take your shoes off.”

Aziraphale snorted, but snapped his fingers and made it so. “You know, while I’m at it….” With another snap, the angel’s outfit had been swapped for a tartan flannel pajama set and his day clothes folded neatly on one of the armchairs in the room. 

Crowley sighed, running his fingers over the material. “Good choice,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. He wasn’t too particularly tired, especially after his excitement over the plan, and it wasn’t like he needed to sleep. He’d never really slept before, so he wasn’t quite sure what it entailed or why Crowley liked it so much, but he didn’t question it.

After another period of time, Crowley hummed again. “You have to close your eyes, angel. Think relaxing thoughts. Or no thoughts. That works better.”

“Oh. Okay,” Aziraphale said uncertainly, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind. But he just felt stupid. It was like waiting for something that wasn’t going to come. Which was pointless.

“Here, roll onto your side,” Crowley murmured once more, moving away a bit for Aziraphale to make the adjustment before latching back on again. “Might help.”

Aziraphale nodded, settling back down with an arm still around Crowley’s shoulder. Tentatively, he let his other arm wrap around the demon’s waist. Without thinking, he let his face fall onto Crowley’s head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo (another thing Aziraphale didn’t get - why take showers when you can miracle away the grime?) and him. Which was fresh pine with a hint of brimstone. Comforting. Before being able to stop himself, Aziraphale reached up and began running his fingers through Crowley’s hair. This made the demon relax even more (if that was possible) and bury his face deeper into Aziraphale’s chest. A win-win. 

Finally, Aziraphale’s eyelids began to grow heavy, eventually closing and not opening. He felt his mind slow to a stop. Before he dropped off into slumber, he could have sworn he felt Crowley shifting once more and something not quite hot, not quite cold, but pleasantly warm press against his cheek for a couple seconds. Before he could focus on what that sensation could have been, he fell asleep.

\---

Morning light streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room slightly. As if without a care in the world, the beams fell across the bed. Right onto Aziraphale’s face. The angel grumbled, trying to hide his face from the light unsuccessfully. After a few times, he found his… his sleeping buddy (he wasn’t sure what to call him just yet), fastened his arms around his waist, and stuck his face in between his shoulder blades. That was better.

Crowely had been faring better in avoiding the light, having adjusted himself so that his head rested closer to his headboard and away from the light (for now, at least). If he felt Aziraphale grab onto him, he gave no verbal indication. However, his arms involuntarily covered the angel’s and his expression shifted from the neutral one you’d have when asleep toward one of quiet content. 

They remained that way for another hour or so before the sunlight reached Crowley’s face. He blinked his eyes open against it, scowled, and rolled over. He was then met with Aziraphale asleep, relaxed, with his arms still loosely wrapped around him. The demon automatically softened (dammit, this angel was going to be the death of him) and he carefully slid an arm around him, pulling him closer.

Until Aziraphale began to wake, Crowley spent the time drawing lazy circles on his back, watching him. Once the angel took the deep breath one does as they wake, he relaxed, closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep. How embarrassing it would be if he realized Crowley had been watching him sleep. He’d never hear the end of it.

Now Aziraphale, despite being awake, didn’t want to get up. He was warm, it was soft, and he was feeling incredible waves of love coming from Crowley and he wanted to bask in it. He spent the better part of thirty minutes debating getting up before he sighed and opened his eyes carefully.

And there he was. 

Crowley was facing him now, allowing Aziraphale a full frontal of the sleeping demon. His usual scowl was gone, which left a pleasantly neutral expression on his face. The angel smiled to himself and allowed a few seconds to observe him. He then carefully disentangled himself, gently ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, and left the room for the kitchen. Little did he know, the half-asleep demon he’d left had practically spontaneously combusted at the gesture.

Aziraphale was now making himself a cup of tea from the box of tea tags he’d miracled into Crowley’s pantry. He let it cool for a few minutes, taking time to add milk and honey before it got too cold. After taking a few sips so the cup wasn’t as full, Aziraphale stood and began wandering the flat. He trailed his fingers over the pristine shelves of records and CDs in the living room. He examined the television remote, but seeing as he had no idea how it worked, he left it alone. Then he made his way to the plant room. 

The angel walked around, quietly admiring the tall, lush plants around the room. He delicately took a leaf in his hand, smiling to himself. “You know, I remember when he learned about talking to plants,” he said, half to the plants and half to himself. “It was all he would talk about for weeks. I didn’t put much weight on it, but seeing this…” he paused, a soft smile growing on his face as he looked up at the plant. “It’s making me change my mind.”

“You’d better not be letting that get to their heads, angel, they take advantage of every nice thing you say.” Crowley’s voice suddenly booming in the room startled Aziraphale, who nearly spilled his tea. The plants that had been leaning toward him now cowered in their respective corners and shook uncontrollably. 

“Crowley! I-I didn’t know you were up,” the angel stuttered, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. “How did you sleep?”

“Y’know, pretty good,” the demon leaned against the door frame. “You?”

“Well, I think. I definitely feel better than I did yesterday.”

“That’s the beauty of sleep. Breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

It took Crowley a few minutes to scramble some eggs, refusing Aziraphale’s help since he was a “guest.” The angel had protested several times before finally giving up and sitting at the dining table to sulk. He perked up when Crowley set the eggs in front of him, thanking him tremendously before eating.

“Mm, this is very well done, Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled between bites. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

Crowley shrugged. “Do you like it?” Aziraphale nodded and took another bite. “Then no use worrying about it.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and finished up his eggs. Crowley watched him, bantering with him a bit. With the last sip of his tea, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. 

The silence stretched between them for several moments. With a quick glance at Crowley, Aziraphale broke it. “So… I suppose we should get ready then?” 

They took turns changing, meeting back in Crowley’s living room. Aziraphale fidgeted anxiously as he stood in front of the demon before taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

Crowley paused for a few moments. “Ready.” He stuck his hand out. “Be safe, okay? Stick to the plan.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I will. You too.” He then extended his hand forward and took Crowley’s.

\---

The black taxi rolled to a stop in front of the entrance to St. James’s park. Aziraphale paid the driver generously then climbed out of the car. He took a moment to fix his jacket (and change the collar to his favorite pattern) before walking in.

The angel was still trying to get the hang of the way Crowley walked. He couldn’t figure out how to get the movement right. It perfectly encapsulated Crowley and his whole personality when he did it, but for Aziraphale, it was just awkward.

He saw himself - well, Crowley - standing at the pond they usually met at. He was observing the ducks, who had started to swim toward him of their own accord. Once he was close enough, Aziraphale motioned toward his jacket. “There might be bread in there, if you want to feed them.”

Crowley glanced at him, then sighed and dug the few pieces out of his pocket and hucked them at the ducks. “This is only for show, angel. I still don’t trust them.” He leveled a sharp glare at them as they gobbled up the chunks of bread, then turned to Aziraphale. “Want to take a walk?”

Aziraphale smiled lightly. “Okay.” With that, they began walking along one of the many paths in the park. 

They were quiet for a minute, then Crowley asked, “Just so we’re clear, we’re meeting at the bench in Berkeley Square when this is all done?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale responded. He spotted an ice cream vendor, then gently took Crowley’s arm and led him there. 

“Strawberry lolly and a vanilla with a flake, please,” Aziraphale told the vendor, handing him a bill.

Crowley eyed him as he leaned on the cart. “So. How’s the car?”

“Not a scratch on it. How’s the bookshop?”

“Not a smudge. Not a book burned. Everything back, just the way it was.” Crowley circled to Aziraphale’s other side as the vendor handed Aziraphale the cone, which he then passed to Crowley with a smile. The demon’s (well, his) face turned down slightly as he was handed the ice cream. “You heard from your people yet?”

Aziraphale took the popsicle and turned to Crowley, shaking his head. “Yours?”

“Nothing.”

Neither said anything for a few beats. “Do you understand what happened yesterday?” Aziraphale asked uncertainly, turning to Crowley.

He shrugged. “Well, I understand some of it. But some of it? Well, it’s just a little bit too, uh-”

_INEFFABLE._ Both turned their heads toward a sudden deep voice, seeing the shadowy form of Death. A flock of ducks were taking off beside him.

Aziraphale sucked air through his teeth at the sight. “Oh, that’s, that’s funny, seeing him here, that’s meant to be bad luck.” The form dissipated in a cloud of black smoke and disappeared. The angel shook his popsicle at the spot he’d vanished. “Th-That’s meant to be bad-” 

When he didn’t hear a response from Crowley, Aziraphale looked to his right and saw him absent. Immediately on edge, he whipped around, trying to find him. He then turned and saw him bound and gagged, being carried off by angels. He looked frantic, his warnings muffled by the cloth.

Uriel and Sandalphon stepped between Aziraphale and Crowley as the angels continued carrying him off. “Renegade angels, all tied up with string,” Uriel began, a smirk growing on her face. “These are a few of our favorite things!” Sandalphon finished. Looking quite pleased with themselves, they turned and followed the angels holding Crowley.

“Stop! Stop them!” Aziraphale shouted, tossing his popsicle aside and chasing after them. No, no, this wasn’t part of the plan. The angel had no idea what they were going to do to him. Well, do to Crowley. But they think it’s him, and it was all wrong. He had to stop them. He had to stop them before it was too late.

Aziraphale barely heard a woman asking him something as he ran past, then something hard and metallic hit his head. He collapsed on the pavement.

“Ooh, bad luck, dear,” an unfamiliar voice mumbled. 

“Ohh,” Aziraphale groaned, still trying to crawl after the angels and Crowley. He turned to look at who’d hit him, seeing a demon holding a crowbar smirking sinisterly at him and two more demons looming nearby. “Oh, it’s not a problem. It’s tickety-booo…” With that, he passed out.

\---

“I don’t suppose that anywhere in the Nine Circles of Hell, there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?” Aziraphale glanced up at Beelzebub and Dagon from where he’d been splashing holy water about. “No?”

He continued to spray the water everywhere, humming loudly as he did so. He flicked drops of water at the demons watching the trial for good measure. The water was blocked by a thick plexiglass window, but he still did it for the performance factor.

“He’zz gone native. He isn’t one of uzz anymore,” Beelzebub muttered to Dagon in horror. 

When he’d had his fun, Aziraphale turned to them once more. “So, you’re probably thinking, if he can do _this_,” he motioned to himself in the bathtub of holy water, “I wonder what else he can do. And very very soon, you all are going to get the chance to find out.”

“He’s bluffing,” growled Hastur. “We can take him! One demon against all of hell! What’s he going to-”

“Shut it!” Beelzebub snapped harshly, frantically. “Get him out of here, he’ll cause a riot.” They got up from their throne, stomping toward the window where the demons looked on at the trial and “Crowley.” “What’re you all looking at? Nothing to see, nothing to see here!!” Aziraphale continued throwing water at the window, enjoying the nice sizzling sound it made. Like the cooking bacon and eggs he’d had with Crowley that morning.

There was a _ding_, signifying Michael’s return. She walked in, holding the glass pitcher with two hands. She instantly descended from her prim and proper mannerisms to ones of shock and fear when she saw the scene before her. “I came to bring back the- oh, Lord.”

“Michael! Duuude, do us a quick miracle, I need a bath towel,” Aziraphale called confidently. Stunned into silence, she did as she was told, slowly walked over to the tub, and handed the pristine, fluffy towel to him.

As Aziraphale took it, he fixed Beelzebub and the other two demons with a hard stare. “I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don’t you?” The three hesitantly nodded. Aziraphale glanced toward Michael, who was still looking on in horror. She eventually nodded grimly. The angel then turned to face the demons once more. “Right,” he said, then scrunched his nose pointedly with a smile on his face.

He’d won. Crowley was free from them.

With that, Beelzebub, Dagon, and Hastur quickly shuffled out of the room. Michael remained, still unable to believe her eyes. Aziraphale fixed her with a glare. “D’you mind?” he growled. As if startled out of a trance, Michael nodded and quickly walked out of the room. 

Aziraphale clambered out of the tub once she’d gone. He dried himself off as best he could - he’d rather not perform a miracle quite yet, while he still wasn’t sure of Crowley’s whereabouts. Heaven might still be keeping track of that kind of thing.

Speaking of Crowley… Aziraphale really hoped he was okay. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of him being either dead or hidden away somewhere, impossible to find, in Heaven. He supposed he’d have to see if he was at the rendez-vous, then deal with it if he wasn’t. That couldn’t stop the angel from worrying, however. He quickly pulled up his jeans, put on his shirt, and tugged on his jacket before hurrying down the corridor. 

“All yours,” he muttered to Michael as he passed, more focused on trying to find the way out of here than being courteous. Aziraphale tried to recall the path out of here, but it didn’t help that his head was, and had been, pounding from where he’d been hit. He cursed Hastur under his breath, continuing on. He tried to find the landmarks he’d bookmarked in his mind on the way in, like the huge, arched door and the poster that read, “Do NOT lick the walls.” (He didn’t even want to ask)

After a little while, the hallways looked more familiar and he eventually came to an escalator going up. Aziraphale’s heart leapt for joy and he quickly climbed the stairs, not bothering to wait for them to carry him to the top. He continued running, out of the building and onto the sidewalk. The first breath of air he took was one of absolute freedom. Freedom from Heaven and Hell, with all that stood in his way being the distance between here and Berkley Square. Aziraphale couldn’t get there fast enough.

\---

Aziraphale had taken another taxi to get to their meeting place in Berkeley Square. He quickly paid the driver and tipped heavily (he’d been pretty annoying on the ride, urging them to go faster every couple minutes or so) and got out of the car. He quickly strut into the park, walking along the gravel paths to find the bench. 

He was pretty sure he’d passed it a couple times already, but the third time around, he saw Crowley sitting on the bench, taking up more space than necessary, but it was Crowley. It took all Aziraphale had in him to restrain himself from running toward the demon and throwing himself into a hug. Instead, he took the opportunity to miracle away any holy water that might still be on him or Crowley’s clothes. He then began walking casually toward the bench, taking a seat beside the demon and folding his hands into his lap. 

They were quiet for a few moments before Crowley spoke. “All things good your end?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yours?”

“Yes.” Crowley paused. “Do you think they’ll leave us alone?”

Aziraphale thought for a few moments. “Utter yes,” he stated simply, yet he couldn’t keep a little bit of excitement out of his voice. “They’ll pretend it never happened.” Crowley hummed in response. “Right,” Aziraphale said, glancing around inconspicuously. “Anyone looking?”

Crowley let out a breath and brought his fingers up to his temples. Aziraphale sensed time slow to a stop around them. “Nobody. Right, swap back then.” The demon held his hand out for him to take and the angel did.

As they finished swapping their forms, time resumed around them and everyone was none the wiser. The only indication was the way both Crowley and Aziraphale flinched as they settled back into their own bodies. 

Crowley reached up at his neck, changing the tartan pattern Aziraphale had made back to his usual red. “Tartan collar? Really?” He muttered, frowning. 

Aziraphale pouted. “Tartan is stylish!” he protested, to which Crowley blew his lips at. Aziraphale was somewhat successful in not fixating on that motion.

“So,” he said instead. “Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy was on the money.” He then leaned toward Crowley, a mischievous grin on his face. “I asked them for a rubber duck. And made the Archangel Michael miracle me a towel!” Crowley laughed out loud at that, Aziraphale chuckling to himself as well. 

“Oh, they’ll leave us alone,” Crowley continued once their laughter died down. “For a bit.” Neither said anything for a bit. They talked a little about the possible next time, with Heaven and Hell teaming up to take down humans - and them.

They fell into a grim silence, thinking about the future and what it held for them. At least, regarding things like Heaven, Hell, wars, humanity. That was, until Crowley broke it once more. “Well, time to leave the garden.” He turned to Aziraphale, his tone light. “Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

Aziraphale paused, as if contemplating, but they both knew what his answer would be. And so he said, with a little wiggle, “Temptation accomplished.”

\---

“To the world.”

Aziraphale shifted his gaze toward the demon. Though his eyes were hidden, there was an unmistakable look of fondness on Crowley’s face as he lifted his flute of champagne toward him. Aziraphale smiled gently, his chest growing warm as the love he felt for Crowley filled him. 

“To the world.”

With that, he tilted his glass toward Crowley’s, clinked them, and took a sip. The bubbles of his drink fizzed delicately in his mouth, a feeling Aziraphale took quite a bit of pleasure in. It was also one he decided he should appreciate more, given how close they had been to losing the Earth forever. The angel set down his glass, watching the bubbles rising to the top of it absently.

Crowley must have noticed the shadowy look that passed over his face, because Aziraphale was shaken out of it as the demon reached over and gently took his hand. Aziraphale glanced up at him in question. “Everything alright?” Crowley asked, concern beginning to etch in his face ever so slightly. 

Aziraphale smiled “Of course, my dear, nothing to worry about. I was just… just thinking, is all.”

“You sure?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond and closed it. He then carefully placed his other hand over Crowley’s. “This isn’t really the place to talk about it… perhaps later? I don’t want to ruin our lovely meal with my fretting.” He tried to smile comfortingly, but something about the way Crowley’s expression fell very slightly made Aziraphale worry the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Alright. Later, then.” Aziraphale tried not to notice too much when Crowley took a few seconds to move his hand away, but not before gently squeezing the angel’s. “Now, give me a rundown of what happened Down There, I want to know exactly what happened.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Alright.” As he told his tale, he failed to not think too much about Crowley’s lingering stares or the small smiles of admiration that occasionally made themselves known.

\---

“So, uhm… what were you thinking about during dinner?” Crowley’s question brought Aziraphale back down to Earth, even after the funny joke Crowley had just told. 

Aziraphale sighed, leaning back against one of the well-worn chairs in his bookshop. Crowley sat in the other chair next to him, a barely-touched glass of wine in hand. He leaned forward in anticipation, trying to hide the curiosity and uncertainty on his face and failing miserably.

“It wasn’t much of anything, really,” Aziraphale began. “I suppose I was thinking of the ‘could-have-beens’. Well, the things that don’t need to be thought about anymore. But I mean, it was about the possibilities if we, um, if we’d done our jobs as we should.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Meaning…?”

Aziraphale looked away. “Meaning if we ended up raising Adam instead of Warlock and indirectly causing Armageddon and destroying the Earth against our wishes. Or if we’d been discorporated-well, I was, in my case, but I mean… both of us? Permanently? As in disappeared from existence, disintegrated, made to be forgotten?” He’d begun wringing his hands nervously, only noticing when he had to set his glass of wine down on the table between the chairs for fear of spilling it on his rug. “What I mean to say, of course, is, uh, what if… well, what if I’d lost you. Even though we both wouldn’t technically exist, it just… it didn’t, er, doesn't sit very well with me.”

Aziraphale continued rambling, losing focus on his surroundings. He didn’t notice Crowley’s face growing more concerned, and he definitely didn’t notice him set his wine glass down and scoot closer. “I just grew so worried because, well, you’ve always been there, and I didn’t really want to think about a world where, uh, you aren’t there. It’s not really a world I’d want to live in.”

Aziraphale felt a couple fingers gently brush the back of his hand, bringing him back to the present. He glanced up to see Crowley focused on his face and _had he always been this close?_ The angel felt his face grow warm at the proximity and he glanced down at their hands. “You’re… you’re really quite dear to me, Crowley.”

With that, Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him over. He quickly enveloped the angel in his arms, holding on tightly. Said angel really had no choice but to hug him back, so he didn’t resist the temptation. 

It was interesting - Aziraphale distinctly remembered them being on two chairs, but it now seemed they were sitting on a couch now, as if the two had been joined into one (a demonic intervention, he suspected). This allowed for optimal closeness, which he was grateful for.

He hadn’t really expected to be comforted. After all, as the angel, he was usually the one consoling the other, but now their roles were swapped. Crowley was gently rubbing circles in his back, a steady, comforting motion to him. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was not quite sure what to do. He’d never really been comforted in the way he usually did for the demon, so this was all new territory to him. Well, the both of them, really. 

Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and rested his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder. He found himself tightening his grip on Crowley’s jacket, forcing their bodies closer. Even though the demon was cold-blooded, right now, he was warm enough for Aziraphale. He startled slightly when he felt a hand reach up his neck and tangle itself in his hair, but relaxed when he recognized Crowley’s slim fingers. He hugged Crowley closer and oh. He was crying. He watched a couple teardrops plip onto Crowley’s jacket.

Self-conscious now, the angel started to pull away. “Sorry,” he muttered, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “To get dewy-eyed on you, my dear, that is. Not my intention.” He tried to lift his head but Crowley forced his head back to its place on his shoulder.

“Nothing to be sorry for, angel,” he murmured. “I don’t blame you. I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist either.” With that, Aziraphale felt more tears pour out of his eyes. He buried his face in Crowley’s neck as he hiccuped out a sob.

As he did, he sensed a change in the planes and heard a shift in clothing. Immediately after he felt rather than saw the large black wings wrapping around both their owner and him carefully. They sat like that for quite a while.

Something about Crowley bringing his wings into view, in order to comfort the angel at that, made Aziraphale’s heart soar (no pun intended). His tears had dried by now and he was really just reveling in holding his demon, being held by him, and being so vulnerable with each other. They had talked a little bit (well… mentioned it off-handedly and then never speaking of it again would be a better way of putting it) about their issues in the past and offered their sympathies but this was another level. And Aziraphale was enjoying it very much. 

He tilted his head up from where it rested on Crowley’s chest (when had that happened?) to look up at him. The demon hummed in question, to which Aziraphale offered a smile. “We should do this more often. It’d probably be better for the both of us to get things like these off our chests. Especially since we’re on our own side now.” Crowley’s expression had been one of slight concern, but now there was an infectious smile growing on his face. Aziraphale chuckled. “What are you smiling about, my dear?”

“Nothing,” the demon answered, shaking his head slightly. “Just… hearing you say it makes it all the more real, y’know?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Saying what?”

Crowley’s smile toned down slightly, seeing what the angel was doing. “You know….”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Christ, Aziraphale, don’t make me say it, you’ve ruined my reputation enough!”

“On the contrary, I think I’ve repaired your reputation, given today’s events.” Crowley groaned loudly, and Aziraphale laughed. “But… we should be able to take care of each other. Aside from humanity, you’re all I have. And I truly would hate to lose you.”

Crowley chuckled, focusing his eyes elsewhere. “As would I, angel.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, wherein Aziraphale rested his head back on Crowley’s chest once more and Crowley kept his arms firmly around the angel.

Aziraphale sat thinking, going through the past couple days. It was definitely wild, what with the whole world almost (but not) ending, the swap with Crowley, dinner, and now… whatever they were doing this moment. This was uncharted territory. Well, territory that had been avoided by both him and Crowley for centuries. But now… it didn’t have to be. He didn’t want it to be. He’d already expressed his affections last night (albeit, not in the best way possible) but he didn’t quite know what was left. What they were doing right now was good, cuddling and holding and comforting and just being a presence. Which was incredibly nice, all well and good. But there was an itch in Aziraphale, one that he hadn’t paid attention to for almost the entire time they’d known each other. It had definitely been springing up more in recent history (well, it had happened before then but Aziraphale had put a name to it more recently) (as in after Crowley had revealed he’d saved his prophetic books from being blown to burning bits) and he’d been ignoring it both due in part to his fear of Heaven’s opinions but also Crowley’s as well. But… Heaven’s thoughts didn’t matter anymore, and Crowley’s were the only important ones now so… it should be fine, right? That didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking though.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley stated simply, startling the angel out of his train of thought.

“Ah, yes?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at his demon once more. 

Crowley glanced down. “You’re fidgeting again. What’s on your mind?”

The angel blushed brilliantly, glancing away. “I, er, it’s just, I, ah…. Well, I-I was just thinking. Uh, about last night. I mean, you weren’t really in a place to be thinking about it, you know, with you being, er, inebriated. So I’m not quite sure you recall our… conversation before you went to sleep. Do… do you? Remember, that is?”

Aziraphale felt Crowley tense against him. “Oh, right, right. Yes. That. Uh, not my best moment,” he laughed half-heartedly, then sighed. “I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have gotten so wasted, especially when you needed my help. It was a life and death situation and I dropped the ball. Along with springing the… that conversation on you like that, not very sporting of me, is it?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s alright, dear boy, it’s in the past.” He paused, glancing at Crowley and waiting to continue. When the demon focused on him again, he began talking once more. “But I, um, I was thinking about something that’s, er… related to that.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, well, I mean to say, that, um, well, we’ve known each other for quite some time, and, well, things have happened, and we, er, we have each other now, so, ah….” Aziraphale continued babbling on for several minutes, growing more and more flustered and his face becoming redder and redder with each second.

Crowley eventually grew tired of the gambit and interrupted. “Okay, yes to all of that, but what’s your point?”

“Oh, uh,” Aziraphale said, looking anywhere but Crowley’s face. “The-The point is, that I…I would….”

Crowley waited as Aziraphale continued stumbling over his words. “Go on, it can’t be worse than anything I’ve said to you.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Fine, fine! Crowley.”

“Yes?”

“I would very much like to kiss you.”

Aziraphale was surprised at himself for keeping his voice steady but that confidence was gone now. He stared at his lap, fiddling with his hands. 

When he chanced a look at Crowley, he saw that the demon’s face was now very pink, his eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, and a very peculiar expression on his face. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, struggling to hide the playful smirk growing on his lips. “Am I correct in assuming you feel the same, my dear?”

Crowley scowled at him, but he couldn’t deny the way his cheeks were alight with blush. 

Aziraphale chuckled softly, lifting his hands and placing them on Crowley’s shoulders. He felt the demon stiffen under his touch, but he gently brushed his fingers over the blazer. He met Crowley’s gaze, smiling genuinely at him. “I’m glad, then. It’s less embarrassing to know that you do as well.”

Crowley glanced away. “You’re embarrassed?”

Aziraphale blinked, feeling his chest ache. “Of course not, dear, I’m relieved.” He reached up with one hand and turned Crowley’s face toward his again. “I could never be embarrassed of you.”

Aziraphale didn’t think it was possible for Crowley’s face to darken more, but he was proven wrong as it happened before his eyes. “Oh,” the demon murmured, almost to himself. 

Aziraphale grinned warmly, bringing his other hand up to Crowley’s face. He carefully fingered his sunglasses in question, to which Crowley tilted his chin down. Aziraphale gently slid the glasses up into Crowley’s hair. 

Crowley held Aziraphale’s gaze before breaking it to look at his lap. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” With that, Aziraphale pressed his lips against Crowley’s forehead for a few seconds. Next, he tilted Crowley’s face up to look at him again. He then kissed his left cheek, his right, the tip of his nose. Finally, with one quick glance down, Aziraphale moved forward, closing his eyes as he went, and met Crowley’s lips with his own.

Now, Aziraphale has had a few encounters with kissing in the past. He’d kissed someone in Rome, he’d kissed Richard Barnfield, and he’d kissed Oscar Wilde (which had led to kissing several more times), as well as a couple lovely men from the gentlemen’s club he’d been a part of. Each time had been different in the ways of describing it. Fireworks, butterflies, things that could be said between two pairs of lips neither had found the words to.

But this one? With Crowley? It wasn’t anything like he’d ever experienced. It was the soft, warm, tingly sensation of victory, but in the best possible way. Because it really was a celebration. They were free from Heaven and Hell, and now they could love and hold one another. And kissing was a perk. A very good perk.

Aziraphale threaded his fingers in the short hairs behind Crowley’s head, while Crowley clung to his waist tightly. They remained for a good while, kissing and humming encouragement to one another. At one point Aziraphale started to pull away and Crowley chased after his lips, so with a chuckle to himself, the angel gladly obliged. It was fascinating - each sensed a change was needed before the other even thought abou it, like mind reading (not that they weren’t mind reading per say, but who wouldn’t be able to accurately predict you after 6,000 years?). 

Even more time had passed before they tried to separate again, this time mostly successful. They just couldn’t resist the urge to lean back over and peck the other’s lips, leading to both of them giggling uncontrollably and leaning in to kiss again. 

When they both regained their composure, Crowley began to gently twirl Aziraphale’s hair between his fingers. Aziraphale rested his palms against Crowley’s chest, staring up at him and trying to project to him just how much he loved and cared for his demon. Neither could stop smiling.

Eventually, Crowley let out a breath and stilled his hand. Aziraphale tilted his head slightly in confusion. 

Crowley smiled despite himself. “Aziraphale, angel, I love you. More than you know.”

Aziraphale grinned, taking the lapels of Crowley’s jacket and pulling him in to press another chaste kiss to his lips. He rested his forehead against Crowley’s.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you again for reading!
> 
> come talk to me about good omens on tumblr! (@spaced-out-cats)


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